Protector and Protected
by Dailenna
Summary: [LingFan] RanFan is Ling's guard, but that doesn't mean that she's the only one doing any protecting. Happy birthday Nil!
1. At Five Years

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** HAPPY BIRTHDAY NIL!! This was written for Nilmiel (of Nilmiel and Kenya), as a birthday present. I've been working on it bit by bit all day so that it wasn't too far from the day itself by the time I finished! Sorry that I didn't get to include Mei-Chan, but I really couldn't think of a way of getting her in there while keeping to the theme I decided on. I know I said it'd be a oneshot, but each of the sections are so disconnected, that structurally it works better as a mini-series. Nevertheless, I'm posting it all at once, so you don't have to wait to read it all! I hope you're having a great time, and I hope that you like what I've produced for you!

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"**Protector and Protected**" by **Dailenna**

**At Five Years**

As a child, Ran-Fan did not cut the most impressive figure in his Imperial Majesty's court. She was neither tall and beautiful, nor intelligent enough to gain the attention of the Emperor. Granted, she was no more than five years old, and the Emperor paid little enough attention to his rapidly growing numbers of children, let alone to the child of one of his faithful guards. Still, his attention would have made her life a lot easier.

Her father had died some four years ago, in the service of the Emperor himself, but she was still undoubtedly his daughter, and her grandfather was still on active duty as a guard to one of the royal princes – a great honour, indeed. Ran-Fan had been told that when she was adequate enough, she would join her grandfather in this duty. She looked forward to the day as one when she'd finally be able to show her worth and gain the attention of someone who saw her as more than just a useless child.

Now, as it was, she had little to recommend her. So little, in fact, that it seemed instead of liking her, people took a general _dis_like to her. This was the reason why several of the boys her age who usually loitered around the training yard had resorted to shoving and name-calling.

"Little miss is too good to hang out with us, is she?" one cried when she declined their offer. Her grandfather had told her to come meet him at the training yard directly after she had finished her chores at home, and she had no time to waste with these three right now.

"Naw, she's gotta go clean up her father's grave, doesn't she?" the tallest sneered.

The three boys sniggered, and Ran-Fan's face flushed red. She'd been to her father's grave many times with her mother, and a few times by herself. Usually it was clean, kept tidy to pay respect to the dead man who had done his duty to his Emperor without hesitation. Recently, however, someone had been desecrating the clean stone with paints that took hours to scrub off, and the stench of urine seemed to hang around the gravesite, as though someone could think of no better way to water the grass. Ran-Fan's mother had used what little money they had to buy perfumes to mask the smell, and hopefully to keep her husband's spirit at peace, and Ran-Fan's knuckles had been rubbed raw by the effort of cleaning the despoiled stone.

Her fists clenched, but Ran-Fan didn't speak. She didn't think that this sort of behaviour deserved acknowledgement. Whether these boys had been the ones to do such despicable acts or not, she didn't know, but that they took pleasure in the fact it had happened did little to give them respect, in her eyes.

"Ooh, you going to beat us up now?" one of the boys smirked, noting her feet slowly steadying into a stance her grandfather had taught her.

"Go on, I dare you," the tallest said, and he walked forwards to shove roughly at her shoulders.

The push unsettled her, but she didn't fall over as he expected. Instead she grabbed at one of his arms to stop him doing it again. A frown appeared on his face, as though to ask how she dared grab at him, and his other hand balled into a fist, colliding with the side of her head a moment later.

Ran-Fan let go of his arm in shock, and grabbed at the side of her face where she'd been hit, young eyes filling with tears at the shock.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?" a new voice asked.

The three boys and Ran-Fan all froze, looking up to meet the eyes of the prince. He was the same age as them – maybe a year older, but not enough to make a difference, physically. Physical size didn't really matter when one was a prince, though, because one could easily have an offending party punished without laying a hand on them personally.

Each of the four fighters gave sloppy bows, as befitted their lack of practice. "Your Highness," was the mumble from each mouth.

The boy nodded as though their greeting would have to do, and stepped towards Ran-Fan and the boy who had hit her. "You shouldn't hit a girl," he said imperially to the boy, and then turned to Ran-Fan with a wide smile. He grabbed her hand and began to walk away, dragging her along behind him. "Come on, you can play with me instead. No one else interesting will."

It took her a moment to catch up with him, but he still kept a hold of her hand. She knew she wasn't supposed to backchat to royalty, but wasn't she supposed to be with her grandfather now? She looked at the boy nervously, and supposed that she might not get in trouble for this one time, if she told her grandfather exactly what had happened.


	2. At Ten Years

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Still happy birthday, Nil :P

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****At Ten Years**

As she grew older, her grandfather taught her more and more of the martial arts he knew so well. Ran-Fan didn't have to go through the usual military testing period, instead being rushed through a smaller but more intimate time of testing, because of the different role she would play. While the backgrounds of aspiring Xingian soldiers were checked over and over for discrepancies or undesirable characteristics, Ran-Fan was brought up knowing what her role as a guard would be. Instead of being passed through trial after trial, when she finally knew enough to be considered worthy of her position, she was sat down and questioned about her beliefs and understandings of the imperial family. She was asked to outline what she believed her purpose to be, and how she would best perform that.

Ran-Fan had been brought up with a strong understanding of just what she was meant to do. Every time she answered "I will do as the Emperor commands me," she spoke as she believed. Whether the Emperor commanded her to kill or to die, she would obey, because it was her duty to accept his orders as what was best for Xing.

A gruelling few hours passed, and the ten-year-old was given a succinct nod, and was informed that she would be paid little, but all of her personal needs would be met, so long as she remained in the Emperor's service. She was not to let anyone harm Prince Ling.

Ran-Fan accepted her duty without hesitation, and as such, she had to remain in good shape. Her wiry frame was covered in coiled muscle, and every day she practiced the techniques her grandfather had taught her. She had heard that so much of this hard work when she was young would stunt her growth, and never let her grow to her full height, but what use did a guard have for height, if it did not serve her master's wishes?

Her hands sliced through the air in sharp but graceful arcs, following a practiced curve.

"Good work," said a now familiar voice behind her.

Ran-Fan spun about to face her master and bowed in his direction, now more adept at the movement than the first time he had addressed her. "Thank you, Young Master."


	3. At Twelve Years

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** And _still _happy birthday!!

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**At Twelve Years**

Serving as the prince's guard gave Ran-Fan a certain measure of pride. She could look at the boy's unscarred face – in secret, when he didn't see her eyes directed towards him – and know that, in part, that was because she had done well at her job. A fear of the tiniest scratch upon his cheek or scrape on his elbow would haunt her for days on end after close calls, but they had never happened. Ran-Fan was good at what she did, because she tried wholeheartedly to fulfil her purpose.

Still, her job didn't require much more than keeping offensive people from touching the prince. She wasn't truly challenged until well into her second year, when Prince Ling chose the wrong time to walk down the wrong alley. He shouldn't have been out that late at night, but Ran-Fan was only his guard, and had no right to tell an imperial prince what he should and shouldn't have been doing.

A handful of drunkards staggered by them, and Ran-Fan's ears pricked up in a poor imitation of Sang, one of the palace cats kept to make sure the palace didn't become overrun by rats and mice. The men passed, singing raucously, but the prince didn't appear to be any more inclined to return to the palace than he had been when the sun sunk beneath the horizon some time ago.

Loud voices approached once more, and two men tottered up, eyeing the prince and his guard.

"Whatah- What are two kidzz doing out thiz late?" one asked, approaching them swiftly for a man in his state. His companion followed close behind with a chuckle and a snort.

Immediately, Ran-Fan placed herself in front of the prince, and readied herself into a steady stance, measuring each of them to see if she could find their weakest points. A voice in her head told her not to consider them beaten because they were drunk. Drunk only meant that they were less predictable, and thus they became more of a danger, not less.

The companion stepped forwards, as though her movement had made him eager for the fight. "You think you can beat us, kid?" he asked, his voice slurring a little. "Go on. Go home to your cows so that your little friend here can buy us a drink. He looks like he's got the money for it."

He reached out to put Ran-Fan to the side, and the moment his hand came near her, she took a hold of his wrist, using his already badly maintained balance to throw him down to the ground. At that moment his friend saw what was happening, and lunged for her. Ran-Fan pushed the prince to the side and stepped out of the way so that the attacker fell to the ground.

The first man was standing up, muttering obscenities about fighting girls when his friend's face hit the ground. Ran-Fan knew she couldn't physically overpower the man, so her hand flew out in a stabbing motion, hitting a nerve in the man's neck that would essentially keep him down for hours. Knees buckling beneath him, he collapsed. She spun around just in time to do the same to the other man before the fist he had sent flying hit the observing prince. The man dropped, his punch missing the prince by a few inches.

Ran-Fan turned back to her master, who gave her a grin she could see in her peripheral vision. "I think it's time to head home now."

He stepped over each of the men gingerly, and Ran-Fan did the same, following after him. Unfortunately, she didn't notice a leg in the way of her last step, and her foot caught on it, sending her flying towards the ground. She stopped with a jerk, the ground still some distance beneath her.

A pair of arms had wrapped around her shoulders and waist, stopping her descent. Burning red, she looked at the prince in shock.

Instead of scolding her for the contact, like he should have, he smiled. "Be more careful next time, okay?"

Ran-Fan averted her eyes from his face – another thing she shouldn't have been doing – and extricated herself from his arms. "Yes, master. Thank you, master."


	4. At Fourteen Years

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Happy, happy birthday to yoou!

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**At Fourteen Years**

Ran-Fan still remembered how, as a child, she had been teased for her dedication to her father and grandfather. It had led then to her first meeting with Prince Ling. The honour of meeting the Emperor's favoured son hadn't been as overwhelming then as it would have been, had she been older, because she was young and didn't know better. Yet she found it odd that the very same boys who had mocked and teased her when she was young now paused in their own training to watch as she headed towards her own.

One day, when they were on break as she returned from hers, she saw them approaching her, and wondered what they might be up to this time. Were they playing tricks again, and looking for a fight, or was there perhaps a less malicious reason today? Their faces showed the usual over-cocky arrogance she was used to, but something was slightly different in the swagger of their stride.

They stopped in front of her, directly in her path. "Ran-Fan."

She paused, watching them carefully. "Deng. Lao, Jung-Wan."

Deng's face was no different to usual, save that his usual open and teasing smile was kept behind a mask. He seemed to be trying to keep it in, this time. "Lao has something he wants to say."

A grinning Jung-Wan gave his comrade a push, and the third boy looked at the others in horror, as though this was not how he had expected things to go. His eyes flickered back to Ran-Fan's confused face. "I- I, erm. Do you want to–"

"She's busy."

Ran-Fan looked in surprise at the prince, who had just appeared to her right, arms crossed over his chest and his face as serious as a stone monument, for once. The young prince seemed to have an uncanny ability to arrive without even Ran-Fan's notice. She didn't know how he did it, but it had happened many a time now, and it was hard to doubt the use of this in stealthy appearances and escapes.

"Aren't you?" the prince asked, in a demanding tone. Without a further word he took her hand, dragging her off in a way that reminded her of the first time he had taken her from these three scoundrels.


	5. At Fifteen Years

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** And finally it's the last part! I hope you liked it! God bless, Nil-chan, and I hope you have many more birthdays to come, yet!

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****At Fifteen Years**

"Ran-Fan, you have something on your mind."

There was no need for him to wonder when it was painted so simply on her face. She had been frowning to herself for some time now, making private considerations that he couldn't determine.

"Yes, Master," she replied, trying to wipe the frown from her features.

He put his head to one side. "I didn't ask _whether_ you did. What are you thinking?"

She paused, blinking. "May I speak freely, Young Master?"

"Of course."

"If I am your guard" – which, of course, she was – "then why is it that you have come so many times to watch over _my_ safety?"


End file.
